


The Ghost of Little Hauntington Manor

by beggarscantbchoosers



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Leo is proved wrong, Multi, Riario being a dick, Swearing, Zo is proved right, a ghost that may resemble a canon character, favouritism what favouritism, priest!Riario, psychic!Zoroaster, so business as usual then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beggarscantbchoosers/pseuds/beggarscantbchoosers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Welcome to the Halloween Special of ‘Fantasma o Fantasia?’! If you’re new to the show or if you just need the reminder, I’m Leo da Vinci, resident heretic and sceptic. I travel the country, visiting hotspots of so-called ghostly activity, trying to disprove the existence of ghosts... And succeeding, every single time! Helping me are my team; Father Girolamo Riario, my assistant Nico Machiavelli, and my childhood best friend Zoroaster, who calls himself a psychic.”</p><p>Leo has never believed in ghosts; his long suffering best friend Zoroaster, the psychic, has never been able to prove their existence. A night in Little Hauntington Manor, however, might just change things... In more than one way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a Halloween fic. Over a month, and nearly 18000 words later, I'm finally getting round to posting it.
> 
> It's set in England because that's where I live, and what I know best; the ghost story is based on the supposed history of my parents' house, though we've never had any actual apparitions... The penny part though, that's a true story.
> 
> Things I know nothing about and have, as such, spent many hours researching: Catholicism and its ghostly exorcism rituals (which, to be fair, seem to be unnecessarily complicated since there's disagreement over whether ghosts exist at all in the first place); Judaism and its ghostly exorcism protection/rituals; how technology even works. I could be totally wrong about all of these, despite the research.
> 
> This I know way too much about: draughty old farm houses in tiny isolated villages; stubborn idiots; exactly how solid a three foot thick stone wall is when you bang your head against it (the answer is _very_ )
> 
> Basically: Don't read too much into this, just... Enjoy it?

“Hello, and welcome to our Halloween special of _‘Fantasma o Fantasia?’_!” A dark haired, grinning man leant close to the lens of the camera he held in his hands, the Italian rolling easily off of his tongue. The show title had started out as a joke – all of the members of his team spoke Italian, and they’d thrown out the play on words whilst they’d been brainstorming ideas, over a year ago now, then ended up running with it. The man himself mainly just liked the alliteration. “I’m your host, the ever sceptical Leonardo da Vinci, and today we’re in a tiny village in the middle of – where are we?” He glanced behind him, and a tiny woman with strawberry blonde curls glanced up from where she was sorting out a tangle of wires at a table across the room.

“Warwickshire.” She sighed. “Come on Leo, Nico was _born_ here.”

“I thought he was born in Oxfordshire?”

“He grew up in Oxfordshire, he was _born_ in Stratford-upon-Avon.” Another man said, sat at the other end of the long folding table. A set of tarot cards was spread out in front of him, and he looked up with dark, solemn eyes, a serious expression on his face that cleared as his eyes settled on Leo. “C’mon mate, we don’t call him little Shakespeare for nothin’.”

“Zo, you are the _only_ one who calls him that, and I just assumed it was some weird couple-y thing.” Leo said, raising an eyebrow; Zo shrugged, unapologetically.

“That too.” He agreed, easily. “Don’t mean you can’t use it if you want.”

“I think I’ll use his _name_ , actually.” Leo quipped. “I wouldn’t want to interfere with the romance.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with our Leo?” Zo taunted. “You _love_ interfering, you interfere with _everything_.”

“Ah, but he wouldn’t be our Leo if he didn’t.” The woman piped up, and grabbed another couple of mic packs. “But speaking of Little Shakespeare, I’m going to go track him and Father Riario down. They went off to set up the external static cameras and you know what Riario’s like when it comes to technology.” Zo was on his feet in a moment, tarot cards left scattered and forgotten.

“ _What_?” He growled, storming towards the door. “Who let that _bastard_ near Nico?”

“Nico can look after himself!” The woman protested; Zo ignored her, his heavy footsteps stomping across the floor of the village hall they’d taken over as their base of operations, making the static camera set up in the corner shake.

“Oh, leave him, Vanessa.” Leo grinned, letting her clip a mic onto his shirt. “You know places like this unsettle Zo, he needs someone to mother.”

“Well, he _is_ psychic.” Vanessa pointed out, calmly. Leo snorted.

“He’s about as psychic as _I_ am a potato.” He scoffed, ever the sceptic. Vanessa rolled her eyes.

“You’re a cynical dick, and this is why we all like Zo more than you.” She said, and leant up to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s nearly sunset, so I’m just going to ring Giuli and check on him and the baby, okay?”

“Hurry back.” Leo grinned, and went back to toying with his camera, ready to record his introduction. “Hello, and welcome to our Halloween special of ‘ _Fantasma o Fantasia_?’! Today we’re in Warwickshire, investigating the aptly named Little Hauntington Manor. A farm house originally built in the fifteen hundreds, the lore behind the house – which really is more of a house than a manor – states that it was once the home of a witch; the last witch from this area to be hung, in the mid- seventeenth century. The house itself doesn’t look like the kind of place a witch would live-” He continued, holding up a glossy A4 photo of a slightly lopsided, but charmingly quaint, Tudor house.

“Witches look like normal people, mate.” Zo cut in, striding back into the room with a disgruntled blond youth tucked under one arm. “’s sort of the point.”

“I was doing the introduction, Zo!” Leo complained, and Zo snorted. “Now I have to start over.”

“It’s nearly time for lockdown, mate, do it in the mornin’.”

“That defeats the _chronology_.” Leo whined.

“We did the interviews already.” The blond pointed out. “And they won’t be shown until nearly halfway through the show.”

“Nico, Nico, Nico.” Leo sighed, passing his camera off to his disgruntled best friend and clasping the boy’s round face in both his palms. “You have no sense of the _dramatic_ , darling.”

“Which is ironic.” Zo quipped, taking the camera and checking the charge as he held it up, focusing on Leo and Nico.

“Where’d you leave Riario?” Leo asked, curiously, clipping a mic pack to Nico’s belt – Zo already had his. “We need to start soon.”

“I’m here, da Vinci.” The low, solemn voice from the doorway pronounced ‘da Vinci’ much the same way Zo might pronounce ‘vegetarians’. Leo snatched his camera back off of Zo, and swung it around to face the newcomer, and Father Riario arched an eyebrow. He was a handsome man, whose colouring and serious expression matched well with his dark, sombre clothing. He raised his chin slightly, revealing the white collar at his throat – for all his piety, the man was as much of a drama queen as Leo himself sometimes.

“Line up then, kids!” Leo chirped, failing to restrain his grin. “Time for the introductions!”

“I’m here!” Vanessa called, tumbling in through the doorway, running her fingers through her tumble of red-blonde curls whilst she shoved her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. Zo settled back at the table, cards spread in front of him, dragging Nico down into the next seat. Vanessa, meanwhile, grabbed a second camera, and Riario settled himself elegantly into another chair, flicking absently through the collection of documents they’d gathered as part of their research into the history of Little Hauntington Manor. Not all of the information Leo and Vanessa had found was there; they only ever gave Zo a limited amount of data to work from. Any other information he came out with was as a result of his psychic abilities, of asking the cards, or so he claimed. Leo, of course, didn’t believe a word. He’d known Zo since they were kids, and so knew full well that his best friend was an expert conman. Still, it drew in the viewers, which was always a good thing.

“Ready?” Leo asked, scanning his eyes across his team, who each nodded in confirmation. “Welcome to the Halloween Special of ‘ _Fantasma o Fantasia_?’.” He began, for the third time, turning to Vanessa as she focused the camera on him and flashed a thumbs up with the hand not holding the camera. “If you’re new to the show or if you just need the reminder, I’m Leo da Vinci, resident heretic and sceptic. I travel the country, visiting hotspots of so-called ghostly activity, trying to disprove the existence of ghosts... And succeeding, every single time!” He smirked, ignoring Zo’s darkly traitorous mutter of ‘ _So far_ ’. “Helping me are my team; Father Girolamo Riario,” Vanessa swung the camera around towards the priest, who inclined his head in greeting, then moved it along the table towards the other two as Leo continued speaking. “My assistant Nico Machiavelli, and my childhood best friend Zoroaster, who calls himself a psychic.”

“I _am_ a psychic, Leo.” Zo grumbled, and lifted a card, turning it around so that the painted image faced the camera. The Hanged Man, reversed. “Suspension.” He murmured.

“Time to let go of an outdated belief.” He said, grinning.

“Or friendship.” Leo shot back, quick as breathing. Zo snorted and flipped over the next card – the Page of Cups – and threw a wink over towards Nico, who just rolled his eyes. Leo all but skipped over to grab a card of his own, and Zo paused, catching his wrist.

“Death.” Nico breathed, staring at the card; Leo shot him a reassuring grin.

“It doesn’t mean _literal_ death.” He promised.

“Nah,” Zo agreed, taking the card back from Leo. “It means transformation, one door closing only for another to open.”

“An interesting reading.” Leo teased, as Nico, uncertainly, reached over to pick up his own card. “And I’d be slightly more concerned about the concept of transformation and suspension if I didn’t know your skills at sleight of hand.” He added, as Nico laid down the Fool – the same card he _always_ got. It was practically a running joke by now.

“So Nico identifies particularly strongly with a card about youthful naivety.” Zo said, shrugging. “Don’t mean my readings are false.” He added, as Riario, with a faintly curious expression, reached over and picked up a card of his own, turning it to face Zo (and the camera), arching an eyebrow in query.

“The Hermit’s a card about religion!” Nico piped up, enthusiastically. Zo grinned and ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Spirituality.” He corrected. “Which in this case probably does mean religion, yeah. Reversed, it’s…” He shrugged again. “Pretty apt, I guess.” He hesitated, and then his expression went very serious. “Don’t go off alone tonight. Stay with someone.”

“I’m never alone.” Riario quipped, raising his hand to touch the crucifix hanging from a chain around his neck.

“Funny.” Zo muttered, collecting his cards back up and beginning to shuffle them. “We’re off topic, anyway.” He added, nodding at Vanessa. “You ain’t introduced our guiding light yet.”

“Ah, of course.” Leo said, raising his own camera and flicking it on to record. “How could we forget our wonderful tech expert, Vanessa Moschella? In charge of all our electronics, sound, camera and lights…”

“And wrangling you boys into something vaguely resembling good behaviour.” She teased. “Come on then, we still need to set up all the internal static cameras before lockdown, and that’s not exactly a five minute job.”

“As part of our Halloween special, we’ll be streaming the entire night, live, to our website.” Leo added, conversationally, as they gathered their gear and headed outside. “If you’re watching this on TV, of course, it means that you’ve missed it, but any highlights will be included in this broadcast, so there’s that.” He continued, trailing after Riario and Nico, who were leading the way to the farmhouse, Vanessa at the back of the group, carrying the camera, with Zo hovering beside her in case she tripped. It had been endearing whilst she was still pregnant and thus prone to tripping, but Leo had the feeling she’d soon get annoyed with it now that she was back to her former svelte and graceful self.

“We have two cameras outside – one at the front, and one at the back.” Nico told the camera, seriously.

“Everyone’s wired for sound and will have a night-vision and thermal imaging camera of their own, along with digital recorders, EMF detectors, electromagnetic pumps, spirit boxes… The usual gear.” Vanessa contributed, glancing over at Leo’s camera as he pointed it at her.

“And we’ll have static cameras in each of the main rooms we’re investigating.” Leo finished, as Father Riario reached the door to the farmhouse and unlocked with the set of keys they’d been lent by the family who lived there, holding it open in order for the other four to enter.

“And Father Riario on hand in case anything goes wrong.” Nico piped up, ignoring the way both Leo and Zo rolled their eyes, albeit for different reasons.

“Nothing’s going to go wrong.” Leo grumbled. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“ _Mate_.” Zo sighed, and shuddered violently as he crossed the threshold, making Leo roll his eyes again and Nico and Vanessa affect concerned expressions. “Ooh, fuck.” Zo muttered, and promptly turned around and walked outside again, the other four glancing at each other before trailing back out after him, both Vanessa and Leo focusing their cameras on him. “Nope nope nope.” Zo muttered, as the two youngest members of their group reached him, each taking a hand. Riario hung back, and Leo only got close enough to peer into Zo’s eyes, checking they were still focused.

“Come along now, Zoroaster, it’s a little early for the dramatics.” He teased, and Zo shot him a glare.

“We are gonna have a bad time of it in that house.” He predicted, darkly, and slid a protective arm around both Nico and Vanessa’s shoulders. “Still wanna go in?”

“Of course!” Leo chirped, grinning, whilst Nico merely shivered. Vanessa, meanwhile, shrugged.

“I don’t mind.” She said, breezily. “We have Father Riario to protect us, after all.” She teased, tossing the priest a wink; he raised an eyebrow, apparently unimpressed.

“No agents of darkness will harm you whilst I am here.” He agreed, fingers brushing against his crucifix. Leo glanced into the external static camera and rolled his eyes again, very deliberately.

“We’re of two distinct camps, in our team.” He explained, to their audience. He played to the cameras far more than the rest of his team, who tended to ignore them unless they were introducing themselves, or explaining something in their area of expertise. “I, of course, don’t believe in ghosts… Or witches, psychics, demons… Anything like that.”

“You literally _live_ with a psychic, mate.” Zo grumbled, busy laying out his tarot cards on top of the garden wall, Nico still hovering uncertainly.

“Zo is convinced of the existence of the occult.” Leo continued, as if the other man had never spoken. “Nico is with me on paper, but puts far too much faith in Zo’s card readings.”

“Agreed.” Riario murmured, and a brief pang of guilt flashed across Nico’s face – he’d been raised Catholic, after all. Zo glanced up, glowering at both of them, and slung an arm around Nico’s waist, drawing him in as he turned over his cards, one by one, muttering an explanation for the meaning of each into the youth’s ears.

“And Vanessa is a former Catholic schoolgirl, who, much like myself, believes that the majority of so called ghostly happenings have a perfectly logical explanation!”

“Not this time, Leo.” Zo murmured, eyes fixed on his cards as he reshuffled them and laid them out again, clearly hoping for a better reading. “This one’s real.”

“You worry too much.” Leo chided, affectionately, leaning in to kiss Zo on the cheek. “Put those away and let’s go inside, we don’t have long and we still have to set up the rest of the static cameras, make sure they’re streaming ok.”

“Right.” Zo said, after a long moment of hesitation. He tucked his tarot cards back into his pocket, and glanced over at Nico. “Maybe you should sit this one out, sweetheart.” He murmured; Nico frowned.

“I’m as much a part of this team as you are.” He argued, and Zo smiled grimly and slid his hand around the back of the blond’s neck, pulling him in to press a brief, gentle kiss to his forehead; Nico’s cheeks flamed and he peered, concerned, at Riario, who merely huffed and pretended he hadn’t noticed. Leo swallowed and looked away, but Vanessa was the only one to catch the brief flash of pain in his eyes, and she didn’t mention it.

“Well, if no one else is going in, then I will.” She said, firmly, taking a step back towards the door. “I don’t really trust the rest of you with my cameras anyway.” She added, airily, and Zo sighed.

“Send Father Riario in first, at least.” He all but pleaded.

“Suddenly gaining faith in me, Zoroaster?” Riario teased, mouth quirking up in a brief grin, and Zo snorted.

“Nah, still a godless heathen, mate.” He said, glancing uneasily over at the house. “But here’s hoping whatever’s in there has more respect for religion than I do.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, we’re planning on setting up the static cameras in the kitchen, living room, master bedroom, attic, and upstairs landing, as well as one here, since it’s going to be our base of operations for the night.” Vanessa told the other four, counting off on her fingers as she did so. Leo nodded slowly, gazing down at an annotated floor plan of the manor, spread out across the table in front of him. Zoroaster was sat at the far end of the table, shoulders tense, shuffling his tarot cards, a nervous habit. Nico, sat close beside him, took Zo’s anxiously fidgeting hands in his own, smaller ones, giving the older man a reassuring smile.

“The homeowners report the highest level of disturbances in the living room.” Riario said, placidly. “Cold spots, electrical malfunctions, strange noises…”

“They’ve also _supposedly_ seen an apparition in the bedroom – a pale woman, bending over the family patriarch in the middle of the night.” Leo contributed, his tone revealing just how little he believed the family’s assertations. “And the daughter insists that she feels a presence in the attic; she believes it brings her pennies.”

“These all sound harmless.” Vanessa said, with a small smile. She glanced over at the static camera in the corner of the dining room. The team, of course, already knew all of these details, but were repeating and elaborating upon them for the sake of their audience.

“It does sound it.” Leo agreed. “But there are also rumours that things have been moved, or gone missing, and that people visiting or sleeping in some of the other bedrooms have been pinched, their hair been pulled… Nothing overly violent, but concerning to the families who’ve lived here, especially those with young children, who seem to be most affected by the attacks.”

“Careful mate, almost sounded like you believed it for a second there.” Zo murmured, his tone far quieter than usual, face pale and almost sickly looking beneath the dark tan of his skin.

“Of course I don’t.” Leo said, flippantly, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he glanced over at his oldest friend, whose shoulders and jaw were rigidly set, tense and deathly still. “This is an old house – the cold spots are obviously caused by a draught of some kind, the strange noises by the house settling or the pipes creaking, the electrical malfunctions the result of faulty wiring.”

“And the apparition?” Nico asked, still holding Zo’s hand, though for whose reassurance, Leo couldn’t tell – his assistant looked almost as unsettled as Zoroaster himself.

“A trick of the eye, or a dream that simply _seemed_ real.” Leo dismissed, waving a hand. He got to his feet, leaving the floor plan of the manor spread out across the table. “Now, this isn’t the largest house we’ve investigated, but there are still plenty of rooms for us to explore, so we’ll split up-”

“Riario ain’t goin’ anywhere alone.” Zo said, hoarsely, freeing his hands from Nico’s grip in order to deal a single card – the Hermit, reversed, again. He picked it up, shuffled it back into the pack and dealt another. The Queen of Swords, reversed. “She’s here, Leo – the witch… And she don’t like religious men.” He breathed, almost trembling, and Leo glanced over at Riario. The priest’s expression remained calm, but there was something almost uncertain in his dark eyes.

“I will take your advice into consideration.” He drawled, politically, after a long moment. His fingers wrapped around his crucifix, and he raised it almost to his mouth, as if to kiss it, whilst he continued to speak. “But I _am_ capable of banishing unholy apparitions.”

“Not this one.” Zo murmured, eyes fixed on another three cards. The Hierophant, reversed. The five of Pentacles. The ten of Swords. Their meanings danced through his mind, and before he raised his head again he knew that Leo’s expression would be unconcerned, perhaps doubtful. He still believed that Zo’s gift was mere theatre and pageantry. Father Riario had faith that his religion would protect him, and Vanessa was almost as sceptical as Leo when it came to the supernatural. Nico was the only one who trusted in Zo’s readings, but the youth also believed in the power of their priest’s prayers and blessings. The ten of Swords and the Hierophant reversed both meant disbelief, disagreement from those closest to him. The five of Pentacles meant abandonment and suffering. Past, present, future. There were positive sides to all the cards, of course, and he knew that the Hierophant suggested his choices were the right ones, that the five of Pentacles and the ten of Swords were both indicators of better things to come, once the suffering had passed, but… Zo was optimistic only when it suited him, or when his friends needed him to be. Now was not one of those times. He gathered his cards again, shuffled them, and glanced over at Nico as he dealt. The Lovers. At least something in his life was going right.

 

Leo watched his oldest friend with concern. For all that he insisted – and truly believed – that the notion of supernatural beings and abilities was ridiculous, even he couldn’t deny that Zoroaster’s readings had, in the past, been unnervingly accurate. Whether that was down to chance, or intuition, or something else entirely… Leo forced his attention back to the mission at hand, collecting the various pieces of equipment that Vanessa was handing him – purely for the sake of the cameras, of course, as they would each be carrying a bag with the tech in, to reduce the chances of damaging it.

“Ah, the EMF detector.” He grinned, as Vanessa passed the small black box over. “Not the most reliable piece of technology we own, but an old favourite, nonetheless.” He flicked the switch at the side to turn it on, and all five members of the team immediately flinched, reaching up to cover their ears, as a high whining filled the air, the EMF detector blaring out its alarm at full pelt.

“That one must be faulty.” Vanessa murmured, concerned, taking it back and flicking it off, grabbing another one out of her bag and passing that over. Cautiously, Leo turned it on. Silence. There were sighs of relief from all corners of the room, and Leo grinned again and tucked the little box into his satchel, alongside the rest of his gear.

“Right, so who wants what room?” He asked, cheerfully, glancing at each member of his team in turn. Zo’s arms wrapped firmly around Nico’s waist, and he all but dragged the startled blond into his lap. His dark eyes were very serious where they were fixed on Leo.

“I’m takin’ Nico and Father Riario.” He said. “Ain’t leavin’ either of ‘em alone in here, but you two should be safe.” He nodded at his cards, once again spread out on the table in yet another reading, incomprehensible to anyone but Zoroaster himself.

“I thought you said it was just religious men ‘she’ didn’t like?” Leo said, and hoped the others took his tone as scorn for the idea of a ghostly witch haunting the farmhouse, instead of the bitter envy he felt welling up inside him. He’d lost his chance to claim Zo’s heart long ago, and though, egotist that he was, he’d found Nico’s unsubtle crush on him flattering, something still warmed inside him to see those affections shift over to a man who, arguably, deserved them far more than Leo himself. Still, despite how glad he was that his two closest friends were happy together, he still felt a knot of envy burning away in his sternum whenever he saw the nearly awed way in which Zo gazed at Nico, whenever Nico wasn’t looking. That awed adoration had been his, once.

“Don’t mean she ain’t gonna go for a Catholic schoolboy.” Zo was saying, gruffly, and Leo guiltily dragged his attention back to the matter at hand. He could sulk about his barren love life later; they had a job to do… And with the cameras constantly watching, there was no room for slip ups – usually they could simply refilm any sections that didn’t come out how they wanted, after all. “An’ if you think I ain’t learnt a thing or two ‘bout protection against spirits in my time, you ain’t been payin’ attention.” The psychic finished, with a grim smile, and pressed his cheek to Nico’s blond curls, visibly steeling himself.

“I assume I will disapprove of your methods.” Riario sighed, getting to his feet. “However, I’m not… Averse to the groupings.” His eyes, darker even than Zo’s, fixed unerringly on the psychic. “I accept your… Gifts, Zoroaster, as Our Father has been known to send knowledge to those who might use it to help others,” He began, and Zo snorted.

“You comparin’ me to a prophet there, Father?” He asked, smirking, and Riario raised an eyebrow.

“Your methods, on the other hand…” He continued, as if there’d been no interruption, shaking his head almost mournfully. “And, of course, your corruption of young Nico…”

“He’s not corrupting me.” Nico said, sharply, and stopped trying to slip out of Zo’s protective embrace. Father Riario gave a gentle, almost sympathetic smile.

“I know you’re… Very fond of him, Nico, and he of you, but…” He glanced almost disdainfully over at Zo. “I am _certain_ that you could do better.”

“Of course he could.” Zo muttered, and slid Nico off his lap, getting to his feet. “But clearly he’s got absolutely _appalling_ taste in men, so it’s probably better that I stick around.” He bared his teeth in a grin that held not a drop of his usual cheer. “Since the next one he picks might be even worse than me.”

“Alright boys, that’s enough, you’re both pretty.” Leo sighed, stepping between the two men. “Nico has _excellent_ taste, Zo will take good care of him.” He added, feeling that burn of envy again, though it was soothed by a brief imagining of just _how_ Zo could ‘take care’ of Nico. Well, he was an artist, after all, and they were a striking, if unlikely, pair – the tall, darkly handsome and well muscled brute, and the smaller, porcelain-pale cherub with the golden curls. “Zo, darling, it might be better if we _don’t_ send you off with Riario and Nico.” He smiled, wryly. “Our audience enjoy a little bit of drama, but straight up murder might put them off.”

“I can control meself.” Zo grumbled, and Leo grinned and leant up to press a brief kiss to his old friend’s cheek, patting a broad shoulder as he did so.

“Of course you can, darling, but let’s not risk finding out _exactly_ what kind of training they gave the good Father back in his army days, hmm?”

“I could take him.” Zo said, after a moment’s assessment. Riario just smiled, calm and enigmatic, and collected his satchel.

“Come along or don’t, Zoroaster.” He murmured. “But I shall be upstairs, cleansing the children’s bedrooms of any evil presence that might… Corrupt them.” He flashed a wide eyed, earnest smile over one shoulder, and disappeared; Zo closed his eyes and took a deep breath in.

“Here.” He muttered reaching up to his throat and pulling a chain over his head. At the end of it hung a thin, round piece of metal, almost like a coin. Something was engraved on it – symbols, and words in Hebrew. Distantly, Leo recognised it as the amulet Zo had owned as long as he’d known him. It had been his mother’s. Leo reached for his camera, the only piece of his equipment _not_ in his satchel – it was still sat on the table – then froze, startled, as skin-warm metal settled around his neck. He blinked up at Zo, then down at his chest, fingers brushing against the amulet. He’d been sure that Zo was going to give it to Nico. “Stay safe, alright?” Zo said, gently, touching Leo’s face. Leo stared up at him for a long moment, swallowing, before finally daring to speak, voice coming out quieter, more intimate, than he had intended.

“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Zo.” He said, and his dismissal sounded more like a reassurance. Zo gave a huff of wry, unconvinced laughter, and tugged Leo into a brief hug, ruffling his hair and pressing a rough kiss to his forehead.

“Here’s hoping.” He muttered, then took Nico by the hand and headed out to chase down Father Riario. Leo took the sliver of beaten metal in his fingers, and lifted it up in front of his face, staring at it. He had no idea what it said – Zo was the polyglot, not him, and Leo had never bothered to ask about it, uninterested in superstition and religion.

“One way or another, I am going to lose this bet.” Vanessa commented, startling Leo out of his musings. He let the amulet drop, and turned to face her, frowning.

“How so?” He asked, but she just smiled, sweet and innocent, and held up her camera.

“Come on, I want to investigate the living room.” She chirped, and Leo repressed his curiosity for now, in order to lead the way.

“It was originally the stables.” He informed her camera, as they walked down a corridor. “Remember, Little Hauntington Manor was originally a farmhouse, and though it has been renovated and expanded since then – quite significantly in some areas – some clues to its original purpose remain. For example, in the garden there are several fruit trees, all that remain of an orchard that was once much larger… Before the excess of land surrounding the manor was sold, and new houses built there.” He hopped up a step and ducked beneath the low lintel, holding the door open for Vanessa to enter, before following her through. The door swung shut behind him, creaking as it did so.

“Could do with some oil.” Vanessa noted, absently, and passed Leo the camera so she could go check on the static one they’d set up earlier, in the corner by the window. Leo turned slowly on the spot, panning the camera around to reveal a dimly lit, cosy front room, with deep, squishy sofas and a warmly glowing log burner in the fireplace.

“Definitely doesn’t look like the home of a witch.” He murmured, moving a little closer to the log burner. The room was absolutely freezing – a side effect, he assumed, of its former role as a stable. There were probably cobbles beneath the worn cream carpet, and he already suspected that the insulation wasn’t up to par.

“So, the owners of the house say they’ve had trouble with the electronics, right?” Vanessa called, apparently satisfied with the state of the static cam. “Want to try EMF first?”

“If it’s poor wiring causing the problem, then EMF _might_ be able to pinpoint any hotspots.” Leo agreed. “Then again, there’s quite a few electronics in this room.” He added, gesturing to the TV in the corner, with a DVD player and at least two different game consoles plugged into it, the sleek stereo tucked into another corner, beneath several shelves of neatly organised CDs, and the multitude of lamps, the majority of which were turned off to add to the atmosphere. “That could affect the result.” Behind him, the door creaked. Checking for draughts was next on the list, then.

“We can try the spirit box after.” Vanessa suggested, cheerily. “Though if this was a stable, we’re not likely to get anything other than horses.” She added, winking, and dug out her EMF meter. The minute she switched it on, it began to screech.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. 
> 
> Or just comes into existence. Either or.

“Do you want to start with the spirit box, or the cards?” Nico asked, looking over at Zo, who was staring almost blankly around the room. It was very distinctly a child’s bedroom; there were cartoon characters on the bedspread and toys scattered around the place, despite the fact that someone had clearly tried to clear up. Father Riario stood by the window, arms folded and a distinctly curious expression on his face as he waited to see what Zo would do. It was generally accepted that Zoroaster was Leo’s second-in-command, metaphorically speaking, and so he would lead the investigation. Father Riario was, as ever, there to cleanse and banish any spirits they came across, should the need arise. Nico, for the time being, was in charge of the camera, and he directed it at Zo as the older man’s hand twitched towards the pocket where he kept his cards.

“Spirit box.” Zo said, finally, after a long moment’s silence. He drew his hand away from his pocket, and dug in his bag instead, taking out the spirit box and glancing over at Riario. “That on?” He asked, nodding at the digital recorder Riario had set up on the windowsill.

“Of course.” The priest replied, tilting it up so that Zo could see the red recording light. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and then flicked the spirit box on, angling his body slightly towards the camera as the device in his hand began to emit brief bursts of static, fragments of words and speech too short to understand.

“My name is Zoroaster, I’m a psychic.” He said, thankfully sounding calmer than he felt. “My friends and I are looking for the spirits that keep pinching the children who sleep in this room. Are you here?” He paused, tilting his head towards the spirit box, listening for any discernable words. Nothing. “My friend here is a priest, he wants to help you move on.” Zo continued, and this time it elicited a reaction.

“Not… Your… Friend.” The box said, very distinctly, in a cold, female voice. Nico let out a startled yelp, and almost dropped the camera; even Father Riario straightened, staring at the device in Zo’s hands with a peculiar expression. Zo, meanwhile, just chuckled, though there was an uncertainty in his eyes, in the way he subconsciously shifted closer to Nico.

“Guess he ain’t, at that. Colleague, then. Are you the spirit that’s been hurting the children?”

“Not… Hurting. Teasing.” The same woman’s voice said, and Nico visibly trembled. “Teaching… Them… A lesson.”

“Whether you meant to hurt them or not, it don’t matter.” Zo said, sternly. “You did, and they’re scared. They’re just kids, it ain’t fair on them.”

“Zoroaster.” The voice said, and there was no mistaking that as a coincidence – Zo’s name was hardly common. “Tommaso.” The voice continued, and this time Nico really did fumble the camera, Father Riario darting in to catch it, taking it off of the youth and holding it himself, focusing it on Zoroaster and the spirit box he held in his hand.

“She knows your name!” Nico hissed, eyes wide and nervous, and Zo drew him into an embrace, pressing a brief kiss to the boy’s curls when Nico just pressed up against him, no longer concerned about Riario’s opinion.

“Seems you know my name, but I don’t know yours.” Zo said, rubbing his free hand in soothing circles across Nico’s hunched shoulders. “You got something you’d like me to call you?” He added, and there was a long pause broken only by the fragmented static of the spirit box.

“The Queen of Swords.” The box said, clearly, and Zo swallowed.

“You want me to get the cards out?” He asked. Before the spirit could answer – if she even intended to – Father Riario shook his head, firmly.

“Enough.” He said. “I’ve heard enough. Take the camera, Zoroaster, I will cleanse this room.”

“NO!” The voice echoed from both the spirit box and the room itself at once, and Father Riario was flung back against the wall, head colliding with the brick with a worryingly loud thunk. He slumped to the floor, insensible, the camera falling from one limp hand.

“Father!” Nico yelped, and Zo dragged the boy behind him, pressing the spirit box into his hand and holding out a hand to the room at large.

“Alright, we ain’t here to harm you.” He said, trying to remain calm. “The Father gets a bit overzealous at times, ain’t his fault. Can I go over to him, check he’s alright?”

“He needs… To leave.” The woman’s voice was impossibly colder than before. “This… Is his fault.” Zo paused, crouching down beside the priest and carefully checking the man’s head; his fingers came away bloody.

“What’s his fault?” He asked, cautiously, picking up the camera – miraculously still running – and setting it on the windowsill behind him, where it would have a clear shot of most of the room.

“ _Murderer!_ ” The woman’s voice snarled, and Nico yelped again and dropped the spirit box as it sparked in his hands. The room went silent, almost painfully so, and Zo swallowed, staring up at Nico, who just stared back, terrified.

“We need to get Father Riario out of here.” Zo said, finally, turning back to the injured priest. Riario’s eyes were open, gaze clear and unwavering.

“I cannot leave.” He murmured, but allowed Zo to help him to his feet, swaying slightly. “I must cleanse this house, someone might get hurt.”

“You’re already hurt, mate.” Zo said, sharply. “She targeted _you_ , out of all three of us – blames you for somethin’. I fuckin’ knew somethin’ like this was gonna happen, the cards _warned_ me-”

“I’m _fine_ , Zoroaster.” Riario cut him off, taking a cautious step forward, eyes narrowed in concentration. “I was stunned, for a moment, but I didn’t lose consciousness, and whilst I’m going to have quite the headache tomorrow, I don’t believe I have concussion.”

“Yeah, well, let us be the judge of that.” Zo muttered, but the priest merely stepped out of reach.

“I’m _fine_.” He repeated, insistently. “Nico, pass me my bag.” He added, nodding to where he’d dropped his satchel in the doorway when he’d entered. “And Zoroaster, you’d better check the recorder and camera weren’t damaged.” The priest continued, taking his satchel from Nico and digging through it for holy water and his bible. “There’s no way da Vinci will believe us, otherwise.” He added, and a wry, tired smile found its way onto his face.

“He ain’t gonna believe us anyway.” Zo said, grimly, picking up the camera and playing back the recording of the past few minutes. The camera itself, for the most part, had missed the audio emitting from the spirit box, but it had captured very clearly the moment when Riario had been thrown against the wall. Zo paused, rewound it, and watched the moment again. He could’ve sworn he’d seen a figure, a blurred shadow, flicker into existence in front of Riario just before he went flying. He grabbed the recorder, next, and let out an unsteady breath; each of the ghost’s words rang out, clear as a bell, even without enhancing the audio of the recording. “Shit.” He muttered, and shoved the recorder in his bag, keeping the camera in his hand and setting it running again. “We gotta go find the other two.” He said, glancing up at Nico and Riario. The priest’s eyes were closed, his mouth moving silently, and Zo shivered as ice crept down his spine. This would not end well. “Nico.” He murmured, and the blond tore his worried gaze away from Riario, glancing over at Zo instead. “We need to find Leo and ‘Nessa, poppet.” Zo repeated, and held his hand out, dragging the boy in to his side. His other hand darted to his throat, and he almost winced as his fingers touched bare skin, reminding him that he’d given Leo his amulet. He didn’t regret it – he could look after himself, and Nico, just fine if it came down to it, but the tiny sliver of metal had been something of a security blanket to him, something he’d worn every day of his life for as long as he could remember. His mother’s amulet had been passed down the family for generations; it was an heirloom, and had decades of reverence clinging to it. That kind of deep belief had power, and the amulet was the greatest protection he could offer. Not that Leo would realise that – for all his intelligence, Leo had always been blind to the things that really mattered, ignorant of other people’s feelings. Zo drew Nico even closer, narrowed his eyes at the still praying priest as condensation, then ice, began to form on the window panes. “Oi, Riario, leave it. She ain’t happy.”

“He’s trying to expel her from the house.” Nico said, eyes fixed on the priest, chanting in Latin.

“It ain’t gonna work.” Zo predicted, direly. “Ghosts tend to stick with their own religion, and ours clearly ain’t Catholic.”

“What do you suggest, then?” Nico asked, curiously, and Zo just held the boy tighter as the temperature in the room dropped even further. Bloody scratches, like claw marks, slashed across Riario’s cheek, and the priest stumbled in his prayer, eyes snapping open. Zo hissed, and darted in, slinging an arm around the other man’s waist as he staggered.

“We have to go.” He said, firmly, looking around. “I’ll take him out, alright, ain’t no need for bloodshed.” He raised his voice slightly, keeping his tone even and placating, hoping to calm the ghost’s ire even as he jerked his head towards the door, staring pointedly at Nico, who darted over to hold it open as Zo half dragged, half carried Riario out into the corridor. Their breath was visible, ice crawling up the walls, and Zo grabbed Nico as he passed, unwilling to leave either of his companions in that room for even a heartbeat longer.

“Tommaso, wait-” A woman’s voice called, softer than before, sounding almost distressed. Zo didn’t turn around.

“Zo…” Nico started, but trailed off, uncertainly.

“I’ll come back.” Zo murmured, quietly, still dragging the slightly dazed priest along as they headed down the corridor, looking for the stairs. “I’ll lay out the cards for her, maybe try smudgin’ the room with sage…” He lowered his voice even further, his words barely audible. “If she’s a pagan ghost – which is possible, if she really were hung for witchcraft, since they weren’t too keen on anythin’ that weren’t Christian back then – then sage and salt and good iron will probably work a hell of a lot better than the Father’s holy water.” He smiled, grimly. “Faith is a powerful thing, poppet, and it lingers even after you’re dead.”

“How would we exorcise Leo’s ghost, then?” Nico asked, with a tremulous smile. Zo chuckled.

“Leo’d contradict his own bloody existence and exorcise himself in a puff of logic.” He winked, and counted it as a success when Nico’s answering smile was ever so slightly less nervous than a moment before. That smile faded when they turned the corner and found only a flat wall where there should have been a staircase.

“Zo?” He asked, hesitantly, and Zo hissed through his teeth, narrowing his eyes.

“It’s an illusion.” He promised. “A trick.” He carefully propped Riario up against the wall, the priest frowning as he pressed a handkerchief to his still sluggishly bleeding cheek.

“The demon is stronger than I’d thought.” He murmured, apparently having finally gathered his wits. He pushed carefully off the wall, staggering slightly as his head swam, vision blurring for a moment. Nico darted in to steady him, tearing his gaze away from Zo, who was cautiously inspecting the stretch of wall.

“She doesn’t want us to leave.” Zo muttered, frowning. “Or…” He hesitated, glanced back at Nico. “Maybe she just doesn’t want _me_ to leave.” He took a step back, and Nico realised what he was planning before he even saw Zo’s eyes flicker from him, to Riario, to the empty corridor they’d just walked down.

“No!” He hissed. “Absolutely not, we’re not going to _leave_ you here-”

“She don’t want to hurt me, poppet.” Zo assured him, stepping in and touching Nico’s face, briefly. “She seems to be savin’ that dubious honour for Father Riario, here. If I head back down the corridor,” He jerked his head to indicate the direction they’d come from. “then she might let the two of you leave, and you can get Leo and ‘Nessa and meet me outside.”

“Or, she might kill you.” Riario contributed, sounding rather unconcerned by the possibility of Zo’s death.

“Well, if she does, I’ll just come back as a ghost and bloody fight her that way, alright?” Zo snarked, unimpressed by the priest’s vague smirk. “Get him out of here, Nico.” The psychic added, and leant in to steal a kiss from Nico’s downturned mouth. Riario murmured something vaguely insulting in response, but they both ignored him.

“Don’t.” Nico pleaded, grabbing at Zo’s sleeve, but the older man merely smiled, grimly.

“She won’t hurt me.” He said, though he didn’t sound completely convinced, and Nico’s eyes narrowed. “She won’t.” Zo insisted, and drew his cards out of his pocket. “I reckon she sees a kindred spirit, and just wants to talk.” He shrugged. “She probably gets lonely.”

“Please be careful.” Nico whispered, and Zo grinned at him, as reassuringly as he could manage.

“I’ll be _fine_.” He promised.

“I might believe that, if I hadn’t watched you give your amulet to Leo earlier.” Nico said, worrying at his bottom lip. Zo shrugged.

“I’m more than just a one trick pony, poppet.” He said, and winked. “I’ll show you some time. For now though, I’ll be off, see if I can’t get our lady witch to sit down and have a chat about maybe leavin’ this place.” He strolled off down the corridor, ignoring Nico’s obvious disapproval.

“Zoroaster is remarkably resilient.” Father Riario commented, almost idly, once the psychic was out of sight. “And second only to da Vinci in sheer _tenacity_.”

“If anyone can confront a ghost witch and come out on top, it’ll be him.” Nico agreed, bravely. He turned back to the wall, and found the stairwell back in its previous position, letting out a relieved sigh. “Come on, let’s go find the other two, then come back for Zo.” He said, determinedly, and the priest raised an eyebrow.

“He told us to _leave_.” He pointed out.

“And we will.” Nico smiled, innocently. “And then we’ll _come back_.”

“Sneaky.” Riario said, and it sounded like a compliment. Nico’s grin widened slightly.

“Much more so than they’d ever give me credit for.” He agreed, and started down the stairs.


	4. Chapter 4

“I can’t tell what’s wrong with it.” ‘Nessa sighed, squinting at the dismantled pieces of the EMF meter, a screwdriver in one hand and the gadget itself in the other. Leo had been banned from dismantling electronics after the third time he’d gotten bored halfway through rebuilding it and decided to turn it into something else instead. The Dalek incident still gave Zo nightmares. “If it’s not the wiring in the house itself then it must be a bad connection in the device, or a stuck switch or _something_ , but I can’t see anything…” She trailed off, looking up and shrugging.

“Don’t worry too much about it.” Leo reassured her, absently toying with Zo’s amulet. “We have other toys.” He added, and then waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Vanessa, reassembling the EMF meter with quick, efficient movements, laughed as she got to her feet, tucking everything back into her satchel.

“What do you want to try next then?” She asked, and Leo hummed thoughtfully.

“Get the Ovilus out.” He instructed, scanning the room slowly with his thermal camera whilst she did so. Might as well kill two birds with one stone, and he had yet to locate where exactly the draught he kept feeling on his neck was coming from.

“The Ovilus is a device with a built in dictionary.” Vanessa told the camera, practically glowing with excitement. She loved talking about her gadgets, and never tired of it. “The theory is that spirits can manipulate the device, and display the words they want to use to communicate on the screen, here.” She held up the tiny plastic box, pointing to the screen, currently blank.

“Theory.” Leo snorted, and ‘Nessa flashed him a twinkling, dimpled grin.

“Yes, the _theory_.” She teased, and flicked the on switch. “Do you want to do the honours?” She asked, gesturing at the room around them. Leo gave a long suffering sigh.

“Are there any spirits present in the room?” He asked, slow and sarcastic, and ‘Nessa let out a huff of laughter, shaking her head as she looked down at the device. There was a long pause, and then the Ovilus spelled out ‘sea’. Leo snorted.

“This is a waste of time.” He murmured. His phone buzzed, and he frowned, digging it out of his pocket and peering at the screen. “Motion sensor in the study.” He said, sounding slightly surprised. “The family don’t have a cat or anything, do they?”

“No…” Vanessa murmured. “Could be anything, though. A moth, if it flew close enough to the sensors.”

“Well, might as well check it out.” Leo suggested, shouldering his satchel. “Nothing interesting’s happening in here, after all.” He called over his shoulder, already walking out of the room. Vanessa shivered, and spared a moment to glance longingly at the cheerfully flickering log burner, already regretting losing its warmth, and followed Leo into the corridor.

 

“I can’t see anything.” Leo murmured, flashing a torch up at the ceiling. There was no movement, no flutter of wings as an insect was drawn in by the light.

“Draught might have wafted the curtains?” Vanessa suggested, nodding over to the motion sensor, which was perched on the windowsill where it could monitor the whole room.

“Could be…” Leo murmured, absently, and drew a lightweight ribbon from his pocket, holding it up near the windows, moving it slowly in an attempt to find any air currents. The ribbon hung deathly still. Leo frowned.

“It could be anything.” Vanessa repeated, though she sounded less certain. There was a thud from upstairs somewhere; she flinched, and even Leo paused in his search, head tilting to the side. There was no repeat of the sound, and so he simply shrugged.

“Nico probably tripped over.” He suggested. ‘Nessa nodded slowly, still looking unconvinced.

“Of course.” She mumbled. “He does tend to.”

“Especially when Zo flexes.” Leo quipped. Vanessa pursed her lips, hearing the slight tightness to his voice. She hadn’t raised it earlier, in front of the others, but there was no excuse now that would let Leo avoid her questions.

“Are you okay?” She began, gently; Leo glanced over at her with a careless grin, from over by the bookcase. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for – did he expect to find some sort of secret passageway? – but she allowed him his dramatics, for the moment, though she did throw a long suffering expression in the direction of the camera. Even if no one else was watching, Giuliano had promised to. Her fiancé was completely unimpressed by Leo’s dramatics, and would sympathise with her plight. That, or laugh at her, but Vanessa was enamoured enough with Giuliano’s laugh that she wouldn’t even mind that reaction.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Leo asked, almost chuckling.

“Well.” Vanessa gave him a significant look, tilting her head towards the camera. Leo scoffed, and deliberately misunderstood her hint.

“I don’t get camera shy, Vanessa. Certainly, I prefer to be the one behind the lens, but I can _perform_ when the situation demands it.” He winked, and she rolled her eyes fondly at his outrageous, and completely predictable, flirting.

“And what role do you intend to take with Nico and Zo?” She asked, sweetly, but sharp as a dagger. Leo failed to hide his wince in time, though he affected a nonchalant expression.

“How do you mean?” He asked, and began fiddling with the EMF meter again, though he didn’t turn it on.

“Well, you and Zo have always been really close.” Vanessa said, carefully. “And Nico’s your protégé. I guess I’m just wondering what you think of their relationship.”

“I’m happy for them.” Leo said, shortly, though the sunny smile he pasted on would fool anyone else but her and the boys. “Zoroaster is… An incredible man, with a massive heart. He deserves…” He hesitated, and the next words tripped off of his tongue as if he didn’t dare think about them too long. “He deserves the world, but Zo’s world has always been centred around those he cares about. Nico’s a great kid, very bright, very loyal… If a little coddled.” He shrugged. “They’re good for each other.” He said, and then repeated: “I’m happy for them.” Vanessa stared at him, expression soft and just a touch sad, having heard all the words the man _hadn’t_ said.

“And what about you?” She asked, gentler even than before, and Leo huffed out a laugh, almost completely successful in disguising the bitterness… But not quite.

“Well, I suppose it’ll be a little awkward for a while, being the third wheel between my two best friends…” He flashed another grin, matinee idol bright. “But there’s always Father Riario to hang out with!” He joked. Vanessa’s answering giggle was cut off by the flickering lights of the Ovilus sitting forgotten in her hand, and she glanced down, startled. “What does it say?” Leo asked, curiously, and clearly relieved at the sudden distraction. Vanessa made a note to question him further later, when the cameras weren’t watching their every move. She looked down at the screen, squinting to make it out in the limited light, and then went very pale. Leo darted in, taking it from her, and his eyes narrowed.

“Kill the priest.” She breathed, and there was another thump from upstairs, louder this time, and something that might have been a muffled yell. “Leo…” She began, and then trailed off.

“Impressive!” Leo grinned at her, something proud in his eyes. “How did you manage it?”

“Manage what?” Vanessa asked, frowning.

“Well, manipulating the words like that.” Leo said, handing her back the Ovilus. “It’s never given a full, comprehendible sentence before, so you must have done _something_.”

“No.” Vanessa swore, shaking her head so vehemently that her red curls danced in the air. Leo’s fingers twitched, clearly itching for a pencil, but Vanessa drew his attention back to the matter at hand by holding out the Ovilus, practically jabbing at him with it. “Leo, I haven’t _touched_ it.” She swore. “I’d forgotten I was even holding it, it just… Lit up, the moment you said…”

“Father Riario?” Leo asked, raising an eyebrow. The Ovilus in Vanessa’s hand flickered again, and her eyes darted downwards, then back up, wide and nervous. “He must pay.” Leo read, and the usually unshakable cynic looked almost rattled… But just for a moment, before he drew himself back up, spreading his hands wide to his sides as he shrugged, then clapping. “Well, that seems like quite a clear message!” He declared, and turned towards the camera. “Vanessa, of course, knows the supposed lore of this place, the limited amount of historical fact we could dig up about the supposed witch who once lived here.”

“I didn’t _do_ this, Leo!” ‘Nessa insisted, a thread of panic in her voice. Leo just grinned, waving a hand dismissively.

“Of course you did.” He said. “After all, since we didn’t want to give Zoroaster any clues, only you and I know that the woman who lived here, the one who was hung for witchcraft, was accused and tried by her own brother… A priest.”

It was at that point, of course, that everything went to hell – the bulb in the lamp on the desk, the room’s sole illumination, sputtered and died, and in the darkness there began a rustling, a whispering, like wind through dry leaves. Vanessa clutched at Leo’s arm, and he – though he’d deny it – grabbed at Zo’s amulet. The rustling gained in volume, a slow creaking accompanying it, whilst the two peered around, eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the sudden darkness. Leo adjusted first, and it was he who spotted the slowly toppling bookcase in time to shove Vanessa out of the way, stumbling after her sufficiently that, instead of being crushed beneath the heavy, polished oak, it merely clipped his shoulder as it fell. The shockwave of the enormous bookcase hitting the floor made the fixtures and knickknacks tremble, and Vanessa let out a startled scream, whilst Leo swore at the throbbing in his shoulder – it would bruise, rather badly, and whilst he was fully ambidextrous he did tend to favour his left hand.

“What the hell was that?” Vanessa wailed, and Leo reached over to the wall, fumbling for the light switch. The bulbs, energy saving, took what felt like an age to warm up, and the slowly rising light levels felt like a threat all in themselves.

“I’m not sure.” Leo murmured, and clambered up onto the armchair beside the wall where the bookcase had been. “The wall’s slanted.” He announced, finally. “It’s further forward at the bottom than at the top, so the bookcase wasn’t fastened to the wall.” He turned, offering Vanessa a gentle, reassuring smile, hopping off the chair to take her hands in his own and squeeze when she continued to look frightened. “It was an accident, ‘Nessa.” He said, soothingly. “It wasn’t fastened properly to the wall, it just overbalanced.”

“But what if…” Vanessa began, eyes darting uncertainly around the room, and Leo drew her into a hug, pressing a kiss into her hair.

“I promise, you’re perfectly safe.” He told her quietly. “Even if there _was_ a ghost – which there isn’t! – she’d have no reason to go after you. You know the story as well as I.”

“The witch went mad with grief after her father was murdered, and her sister died of illness.” Vanessa recited, quietly, pressing close to Leo as the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “She cursed the village, and people sickened and died, including her guardian, her uncle, and half a dozen children. Crops failed, animals starved, and her brother, a priest, returned to the village and accused her of witchcraft. She was hung, and the curse was lifted… But the witch’s spirit lingered, still seeking revenge on the brother who betrayed her.” The wind blew down the chimney, making a mournful howl, and Vanessa shivered.

“Except, of course, that neither witches nor curses exist.” Leo pointed out, careless and unafraid. He grinned, and somehow, Vanessa felt safer. “And neither do ghosts. So, we’re perfectly safe, because even _if_ those things were real, _which they’re not_ , neither of us are priests.”

“Far from it, in your case.” Vanessa teased, and Leo laughed wickedly, winking. “Plus,” She began, and her smile turned very sly. “Zo gave you his amulet. You’re the best protected out of all of us, at the minute.”

“If you believe in that kind of thing.” Leo sniffed, and Vanessa shook her head, letting out a huff of fond laughter.  
“We should go get you some ice for that shoulder.” She suggested. “I’m sure the family won’t mind us borrowing some out of the freezer, since it was their bookcase that injured you.”

“Or their ghost.” Leo scoffed, rolling his shoulder carefully and wincing at the stab of pain. “I don’t think ice will be much help.” He admitted, finally, and Vanessa hesitated, pursing her lips.

“I’m not giving you painkillers.” She said. “Not until Zo’s around; he knows exactly what you’re allowed.”

“You are a harsh woman, Vanessa Moschella.” Leo sighed, and let her drag him to the kitchen, propping himself up against the counter and staring, aggrieved, into the static camera by the cooker whilst she rummaged in the freezer for an icepack, and then dug through the cupboards and drawers to find a clean tea towel, which she wrapped around the icepack before passing it over. Leo sighed, and held it to his shoulder, flashing her a soft, grateful smile as the cold seeped into his skin, numbing the ache some.

“You stay here and keep that ice on it,” She instructed, folding her arms sternly. For such a tiny woman, she could be absolutely terrifying when she wanted to be. She was going to be fantastic when Giulio hit puberty, if he was anything like his father. “I’ll go find Zo, see what he recommends.”

“I’m allowed ibuprofen.” Leo said, hopefully, and Vanessa arched an eyebrow.

“We’ll let Zo be the judge of that.” She said, airily, and squeezed past him, reaching for the door. Before she could even touch the handle, it burst open, and Vanessa flinched backwards, Leo reaching for her, ice pack discarded and eyes narrowed. His bruised shoulder throbbed a protest at the defensive position he’d instinctively slipped into, arms raised and curled into fists, and almost punched his assistant in the face before he realised that the blur of pallid skin and blond curls was Nico, and switched into cradling the trembling youth close instead.

“Nico?” He asked, startled, whilst Vanessa tsked and retrieved his icepack, holding it in place for him with perhaps a touch more force than was necessary, considering his injury had come about as a result of protecting her in the first place. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?” He asked, unaware that he’d co-opted one of Zo’s favoured endearments until Nico gave a hitched sob that sounded almost like the psychic’s name.

“Where _is_ Zo?” Vanessa asked, concerned, glancing at Father Riario, who was lurking in the doorway.

“He went back to distract the witch!” Nico practically wailed; Vanessa was less than impressed – she’d been roommates with Nico throughout their years at university, and knew that he was fully capable of crying on demand, and had been known to utilise that skill on more than one occasion to get his own way.

“There’s no such thing as witches.” Leo sighed, raising his good arm to wipe tears from Nico’s eyes.

“There _is_ , and she hurt Father Riario!” Nico insisted. Vanessa tensed, dread crashing over her like an ice cold wave. _Kill the priest. He must pay_.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Nico…” Leo began, trailing off as Riario stepped into the light, angling his head so that the four bleeding scratches on his face were revealed.

“Well, I didn’t do this to _myself_.” He said, dryly.

“We _have_ to go back and rescue Zo!” Nico said, and despite her sudden fear, Vanessa spared a moment to feel smug that all trace of tears was gone from her best friend’s face, replaced by steely determination.

“Alright, this isn’t _funny_ anymore.” Leo sighed, though he was fighting down a smile. “I get it, you want me to be more open minded, stop scoffing at Zo’s tarot readings, hence the Ovilus, the scratches, the bookcase…” His smile turned into something a little closer to a grimace as he rolled his shoulder, wincing in pain. “Which was _dangerous_ , by the way, I think I might have a fracture… But ghosts really aren’t real.”

“The bookcase?” Riario queried, ducking in and poking at Leo’s shoulder – he had some first aid training, albeit limited. “What happened?”

“The massive oak bookcase in the study fell on us; Leo only just pushed me out of the way in time. It clipped his shoulder as it fell.” Vanessa explained, drawing Nico out of Leo’s arms and into her own, peering up into his face. Genuine worry shone in his eyes, and she bit her lip. “Nico, what’s going on? Tell me the whole story, slowly.”

“We don’t have _time_!” Nico complained, turning to Leo for guidance. “She could really be hurting Zo!”

“This joke isn’t funny anymore, Nico!” Leo snapped, jerking out of Riario’s reach. “Just _drop_ _it_ already, okay? That stunt with the bookcase was _dangerous_ and I am in _pain_ , so just call Zo out from wherever he’s hiding so I can have some _fucking_ painkillers already!” Nico’s eyes turned very cold.

“I know you don’t believe in ghosts.” He said, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I know you’ve _never_ believed in them, and you’ve never believed in _Zo_. But I am _telling_ you that there is a ghost, that the witch _is_ haunting this house, and that Zo has _gone back_ to talk to her, hoping he can distract her from attacking Father Riario!”

“Ghosts aren’t _real_.” Leo said, sharp and impatient, and Nico’s eyes narrowed further.

“Fine.” He hissed, and turned on his heel.

“Nico, where are you going?” Vanessa asked, alarmed.

“ _Back_.” Nico threw over his shoulder, without turning around. “Zo would go to the ends of the earth for any one of us. I can go back upstairs in a haunted house for him.” Vanessa turned to Leo, glaring, and grabbed her bag, hurrying out of the kitchen after her friend.

“Wait, Nico, I’m coming too!”

Leo turned to the priest, an exasperated expression on his face.

“Are you going to go along with this as well?” He asked, sighing. Riario shrugged.

“I have no particular fondness for Zoroaster.” He admitted. “But as Nico mentioned, he _did_ go back, merely to ensure the boy and I could escape. That, if nothing else, warrants some effort towards rescue, on my part.” He smiled, tightly.

“But _ghosts aren’t real_.” Leo insisted, and Riario arched an eyebrow.

“In which case, there’s nothing for you to fear, and you should have no problem with running upstairs to save your pet psychic.” The priest said, calmly, and dampened some kitchen roll in the sink, in order to wipe the worst of the blood from his face. “Come along now, da Vinci. Neither Nico nor Vanessa know how to properly exorcise this demon.”

“There’s no such thing as demons, either!” Leo protested, weakly, but trailed after Riario as he turned on his heel and strode from the room, head held high.


	5. Chapter 5

“Alright, I came back.” Zo said, calmly, lowering himself to the floor. He’d gone up to the attic, eventually, allowing his instincts to guide him; he’d found himself in the eldest daughter’s bedroom, the one who insisted that the ghost was harmless, and merely brought her pennies. It was a strangely Spartan room, more suited for a hotel or an elderly lady than a teenage girl – there were no posters on the white painted walls, no photographs framed and set out on the dresser or desk. Even the bed was pristinely made; Zo’s experience with teenagers was limited, true, and it was nearly a decade since he himself had been one, but Nico was barely into his twenties and he _still_ didn’t make the bed in the mornings, leaving the duvet abandoned in a tangled knot at the bottom of the mattress, the pillows strewn every which way and his pyjamas dumped in a pile on the floor somewhere between the bed and the shower. What sort of girl owned this room, so sparse and uninteresting, yet got excited over a ghost bringing her lost coins?

“This isn’t where we were before.” The ghost said, quietly, materialising in the corner of the room, fingers trailing over the white painted wood of the desk. As Zo watched, she raised her hand, placing a single, shiny copper coin atop a closed jar filled with pennies.

“I had the feelin’ you might prefer this room.” Zo was gentle, in his speech, almost cautious; he reached into his pocket, telegraphing his movements, and drew out his tarot cards. “How about I do a reading for you?” He offered, and the ghost, scarcely more than a shadow shaped like a woman, let out a low laugh.

“I have no need of your cards to tell me my fate.” She said, and Zo flashed her a twinkling grin.

“I may yet surprise you.” He said, and winked; she laughed again, and there was something charming about it, something that reassured him. Perhaps he hadn’t lied when he’d promised Nico she wouldn’t hurt him, after all.

“Do you read for my past, or my future, Tommaso?” She asked, curious, and Zo hummed thoughtfully as he shuffled the cards in his hands.

“Your past.” He decided, looking up, expression serious. “I get the feelin’ there’s more to the story than I know.”

“There’s always more.” The ghost agreed, and drifted closer. “Lay your cards. Read my past. I shall tell you if it’s true or not, and then you can decide whether I have due cause to hate your priest.”

“I don’t blame you, honestly.” Zo said, laying down his first card. “I ain’t keen on him either. Not sure he deserves to die, though.” With his head lowered, focusing on the card, he slid his eyes to the side, checking the camera he’d set up earlier was still recording. “Death.” He said, after reassuring himself that the recording light was still lit, red and glowing like a beacon. “Transformation and change. Not usually literal, but in your case…” His expression remained solemn, his eyes going very distant. “Your father?”

“Murdered.” She agreed. “They told us it was robbers.”

“It wasn’t.” Zo said – it wasn’t a question, but she inclined her head in agreement. The more she spoke, the more corporeal she seemed to become. Zoroaster thought he could discern curls of wild hair, the suggestion of eyes and a mouth, on the formerly blank shadow figure. He laid down another card. “The King of Swords. Your new guardian was a powerful, forceful man.”

“My uncle. My sister and I were deemed too young to live without a man’s guardianship, and my brother had left the village and joined the priesthood, so my uncle moved into our house to take care of us.” The sneer in her tone on those last few words made it clear to Zo that her uncle had hardly been a model guardian. He looked down at the card, and knowledge rose up in him.

“He was controlling, domineering. Responsible for your father’s death.” He added, and the ghost seemed to flinch.

“I suspected…” She breathed. “But never knew, not until now.” Zo grimaced, sympathetically, and lay down another card.

“The Fool.” He announced, quietly. “Youthful naivety, innocence, trust. You had faith, for a time, that he wanted what was best for you.” He was going to leave it there, but something made him continue. “The Fool, in regards to love, means that someone’s unready for commitment.” He looked up, frowning slightly. “He wanted to marry you off.”

“He had debts that he could not pay.” The witch said, her voice almost too low to be heard. Her form was more defined now, and as she sunk down to sit opposite him, Zo could almost see the ripple of her skirts, long, slender fingers folding together in her lap. “I was considered a great beauty, and heir to my father’s lands, besides. His moneylender – a cruel, sadistic man far older than me – told my uncle he would accept me as a bride, in place of payment.”

“You refused.” Zo elaborated, unnecessarily. The ghost inclined her head. “The Page of Wands, reversed.” Zo carefully laid down the next card, and his heart ached as he gathered the strength to interpret it for her. “A younger female… Your sister?” The ghost inhaled sharply, choking on a sob, and Zo swallowed as he lay down the three of Swords. “He killed her.”

“He’d hoped it would make me docile.” She agreed, her voice very cold despite how it wavered with grief. “He was wrong.” She added, danger weaving through her words. “I knew some herbwifery.” She continued, spitting out the words with such hate and despair that Zo wanted to reach out and embrace her, for all that he knew she was long dead, that it was angered ghosts that harmed people. That there was nothing he could do. “I poisoned him.” The ghost continued, low and unrepentant. “It looked natural – like a heart attack. It was easy.” Silently, Zo lay down the Hermit. Riario’s card.

“Your brother returned.” He added Justice, reversed, to the line of cards before him, then the ten of Wands, also reversed. “You expected him to help you, to rescue you, but instead he blamed you for your sister’s death, accused you of witchcraft…”

“Had me hung.” The ghost snarled. “My own brother! I _needed_ him, begged for his forgiveness for what I’d done to our uncle… And he merely told me that I should have complied, should have allowed Uncle to marry me to that foul beast of a man, that our sister would still be alive if it wasn’t for my defiance.” She faltered, fading slightly. “He was right, of course. I chose myself over my sister, and she paid the price.”

“You can’t know that.” Zo said, gently. He knew a little about misplaced guilt, about blaming oneself for the death of a relative. “Sounds like your uncle was a right bastard, he might’ve killed her anyway. Hell,” His eyes narrowed. “He might’ve done worse, or married her off too.”

“But she would have _lived_.” Her voice was a mournful gasp, the edges of her form wavering like heat haze. The temperature of the room, however, was dropping – Zo shivered, and fought it down, unwilling to show weakness. He reached out for her instead, hovering a hand just above her form, eyes soft and sympathetic.

“It weren’t your fault.” He said, quiet but unshakably sincere. “It was his, your uncle’s. You shouldn’t have been made to pay for his mistakes, either of you.”

“And yet, we both did.” The ghost said, heartbreakingly sorrowful. “But, I think, her more than me.”

“Men.” Zoroaster quipped, little real humour in his words. “They’re all arseholes.”

“Not all.” The ghost said, and raised her head, form wavering into something more corporeal again. “You risk yourself to protect a priest whose faith you do not follow. Your leader pushed the girl aside and took the brunt of a falling bookcase on himself.” She paused, thoughtfully. “I almost regret it, but he was _ignoring_ me.”

“Yeah, he’s rude like that, our Leo. There’s been a time or two I’ve wanted to drop a bookcase on him meself.” Zo agreed, collecting his cards and shuffling them back into a pack. “Now, I ain’t gonna make you leave, but I _can_ help if that’s what you want. You just gotta let go.” The ghost turned her face back to him, and the suggestion of eyes looked almost accusing.

“You would exorcise me, too?” She questioned, voice dangerously cold, and Zo held up a hand.

“I ain’t gonna _make_ you leave.” He repeated. “But if you wanna stay, you gotta stop hurtin’ the kids. I don’t care what lesson you think you’re teachin’ them, they’re _kids_.”

“And your priest?” The ghost asked, archly, and Zo grinned and shrugged.

“Well, retrospectively I’m findin’ that whole scenario a little funny, and he was askin’ for it.” He winked, and then his expression turned serious again. “But he’s gone, and I’ll keep him away, keep all the priests away, if _you_ promise to stop hurting the kids.”

“A reasonable enough request.” The ghost allowed, and got to her feet with such elegance that she seemed more like flowing water than a person. Zo stood too, shoving his cards back in his pocket. “Very well,” She began, holding out a hand as if to shake Zo’s own, though he felt the crackle of power in the air and knew she intended to make a Pact. Her casual mention of herbwife knowledge seemed to have been something of an understatement. “I-” There was a thunder of footsteps on the stairs, and Father Riario stormed into the room, clutching his crucifix in one hand and a flask of holy water in the other, already chanting. The witch let out a distressed cry, and Zo felt her betrayal as if it was a tangible thing. “It was a distraction!” She snarled, the power raised for the Pact turning into a wind that tore at Zo’s hair and clothing, and he scowled at Riario even as he tried to reassure the ghost.

“No, _no_ , I swear to you I thought they’d _left_!” He yelled, barely able to hear himself over the wind and the priest’s chanting. “Riario you fucker, _stop_!” He shouted, and then noticed the other three arrayed behind the priest, Vanessa and Nico both looking grimly determined, Leo somewhere between aghast and amazed, his eyes fixed on the apparition. Zo had no time to feel smug about finally being proved right, however, as the witch screamed out her frustration, her anger, and flung out a hand towards Riario, who merely raised his chin, defiant and unwavering in his faith. Her attack, whatever it might have been, never made contact – though whether or not Riario’s prayers would have protected him remained a mystery. Instead, Leo, brave, foolhardy, ridiculous Leo, flung himself in front of the priest, dark eyes narrowed and determined. The amulet, Zo’s mother’s amulet, given on a whim and with generations of belief imbued in it, glowed, absorbing the witch’s fury and making her shriek again, before turning her anger on another. Nico was flung against a wall, without warning, and Leo’s determination faltered. He ran to his stunned assistant’s side, the amulet clutched in his hand like a lifeline, Vanessa with him, her fear palatable. The abrupt attack made Riario, too, hesitate, and Zo took the opportunity to approach the ghost again, hands outstretched in a placating gesture. “Please, stop.” He pleaded, putting himself between her and the others. “Please, I _swear_ , I didn’t call them back here, I told them to _leave_. I want that Pact.” He added, and flung a hand back to smack Riario when the priest began to chant again. The man fell silent, and Zo ignored the affront he could feel like a hot knife in his back. The witch had become practically opaque in her anger, each feature rendered clearly. She was beautiful – about that she hadn’t lied – and painfully young. Her eyes were narrowed in anger, one hand clenched at a fist at her side, the other outstretched, and Zo knew that kind of pain. “Please.” He repeated, gently. “We won’t exorcise you, we won’t hurt you anymore.” The witch’s mouth twisted into a dark smile.

“No.” She whispered. “No, you won’t.” She surged forward, and for Zo, everything went dark.


	6. Chapter 6

“Nico, hey, sweetheart, c’mon…” Leo muttered, practically dragging the boy into his lap, long fingers probing gently at the boy’s skull. They came away bloodied, and he let out a low hiss of concern.

“He’s had worse.” Vanessa said, flippantly, but there was a tremble in her voice. “One time whilst we were at university, he drank two dirty pints in a row and then slipped over in the bathroom and cracked his head on the sink. It bled at least _twice_ as much.”

“Well at least I didn’t jump off the bloody roof, convinced I could fly.” Nico’s voice was weak, but grouchy, and Leo, letting out a gasp of relief, hugged his assistant close. Vanessa, meanwhile, just grinned, eyes shiny and wet.

“I’m told I looked rather elegant.” She said, squeezing Nico’s hand in her own. The blond snorted.

“Until you hit the ground, maybe.” He mumbled, and slowly sat up, wincing slightly. “My chest hurts.” He mumbled, and Leo freed one hand – keeping the other wrapped around Nico’s back to support him – prodding gently at Nico’s ribs. Nico yelped.

“Looks like we’ll both be taking a trip to the emergency room, darling.” Leo said, apologetically, ducking his head to press his lips to bloodied blond curls, almost absentmindedly. He closed his eyes as relief swept through him. If they could walk away with this with nothing worse than a concussion and a few cracked bones… His arms tightened around Nico, briefly, until his own injured shoulder throbbed out an insistent protest.

“Zo.” Nico breathed, anxious and afraid, and Leo fought down the irritated envy, and instead helped his assistant to his feet. “Zo?” Nico repeated, clutching Leo’s arm. Zoroaster had fallen to his knees, and whilst the apparition was no longer anywhere in sight, Father Riario was backing up, slowly, his eyes uncertain.

“What happened?” Leo asked, gaze darting around the room, arm curling protectively around Nico’s waist. “Where did she go?”

“She’s _inside_ him.” Riario hissed, and Leo decided now was, perhaps, not the best time for a dirty joke. Instead he swallowed, glancing down at Nico, whose eyes were fixed on the man they both loved as he staggered slowly to his feet. He turned to face them, and his normally warm brown eyes were an icy blue.

“He’s _possessed?_ ” Leo asked, and was embarrassed to notice his voice wavering. The great Leo da Vinci, afraid of something he’d been convinced didn’t even _exist_ until about ten minutes ago? Impossible. Then again, things were a little different when it was his _best friend_ glaring at him out of unfamiliar eyes, filled with rage and the promise of retribution. Zo’s gaze flickered to Father Riario, who raised his chin, refusing to be cowed by the threat, and drew a bottle of holy water from his bag.

“ _Zo_.” Nico breathed, concerned, and his grip on Leo’s arm tightened. “Leo, _do_ something.” He said, insistently.

“Zo will be fine.” Leo didn’t sound convinced. “Ghosts are only affected by the traditions of their own religion, right?”

“That’s what Zo always says.” Nico mumbled in agreement.

“Then he’ll be fine.” Leo said, firmly. “Zo’s Jewish, when he bothers with religion at all.” Despite the confident tone to his words, he felt fear rise up in him, like a hand around his throat. He took a breath – ever so slightly shaky, and tugged Zo’s amulet off, over his head. “Here.” He murmured, pressing it into Nico’s hands. The blond stared down at it for a moment, failing to understand.

“Leo?” He queried; Leo tilted his head slightly to the side, mental cogs whirring as he stared at Zo, trying to think what to do. The ghost seemed to be having trouble controlling her new possession, as Zo’s stance was weaving slightly, his steps slow and slightly staggered. Father Riario seemed less concerned now, his chanting growing stronger. Plans were darting through his mind, quick as lightning, and he looped the amulet around Nico’s neck without glancing away from Zo. “Leo, Zo gave this to you!” The blond protested, wrapping his fingers around the amulet, and Leo finally glanced over at him, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

“I’m sure he’d rather you had it, right now.” He said. “He’s not himself… And he would never forgive himself if he hurt you whilst possessed, even if it wouldn’t be his fault.”

“He’d never forgive himself if _you_ got hurt, either.” Nico said, impatiently, trying to remove the amulet. “That’s _why_ he gave it to you.” Leo rolled his eyes, cradling Nico’s face in his palms briefly.

“Yes, but he _loves_ you.” He pointed out, and it was Nico’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You’re an idiot.” He said, flatly. “He loves you too. We both do.”

“Thank you, darling.” Leo said, brightly, pretending the reminder didn’t hurt him. “I love you both too.” He added, cheerily. “You’re my very best friends.” His expression turned serious, and he ducked his head to stare intently into Nico’s eyes. “That’s why I need you to wear the amulet, Nico.” He said, cutting over the blond’s protests. “I don’t understand it, I’m still not sure I even _believe_ in it… But this amulet seems to _work_ , and I need you to be safe. I can’t concentrate on helping Zo if I don’t know you’re safe, Nico, do you understand me?” He was practically begging by the end, and Nico stared searchingly into Leo’s eyes for a long moment, before his gaze softened, face breaking into a small smile.

“Alright.” He said, gently. “Okay, Leo. Just… Please be careful? We want you to be safe too, you know.” He added. Leo wasn’t sure what his assistant had seen in his face that had convinced him, but he was grateful for it all the same; he tugged the boy in and pressed a brief kiss to tangled blond curls, and turned back to where the ghost seemed to have finally gotten the hang of walking. She’d reached Father Riario, and had wrapped Zo’s hands – big, strong hands, calloused from hard work but far more used to clutching cards and cameras than throats, in recent years; he wouldn’t appreciate the return to senseless violence – around the priest’s throat. Riario was stubbornly trying to continue his exorcism, wheezing out the Latin chant whilst clutching his crucifix with one hand, the other wrapped around Zo’s wrist.

“I should really pay more attention.” Leo muttered to himself – he hadn’t even noticed the change in Father Riario’s prayers. He stepped forwards.

“This is much easier than throwing you against the wall.” The witch told the priest, sweetly, and everything about her words filtered through Zoroaster’s voice felt wrong. Leo stepped forward.

“Stop!” He demanded, not entirely sure what to do, but knowing that he was the only one who _could_. Vanessa and Nico both looked up to him, had turned to him for answers, and he would never risk either of them. He had to protect them… But he had no idea how to exorcise a witch who wasn’t responding to Riario’s methods. He swallowed, and wished he’d actually _listened_ to Zo whenever the man started speaking about ghosts, instead of just admiring the man’s aesthetics… Even if Zo was _very_ attractive.

“I have no quarrel with you.” The witch said, turning her cold gaze on him. The blue of her eyes in Zo’s face was jarring, and Leo felt almost sick. “Take your boy and the girl and leave.”

“Not without Zo.” Leo folded his arms, and the witch arched Zo’s eyebrow, the expression looking strange on his face – it was one far more suited to Riario than Zoroaster.

“You can have Tommaso back once I’m finished with him.” She conceded, and Leo paused.

“We also need Riario.” He said, gesturing to the priest, who was now red in the face. “Put him down.”

“No.” The witch said, calmly, and turned her gaze back towards Riario just in time to get a faceful of holy water. She spluttered, and stumbled backwards, seemingly more distracted than harmed by it, but it got her to drop Riario, who promptly collapsed back against the nearest wall, massaging his throat and gasping for breath. Leo took the opportunity to dart between his two friends, holding his hands up placatingly as Zo had done a few moments before.

“Please,” He began, and then hesitated, unsure of how to continue. “Killing Riario isn’t going to solve anything.” He said, quietly. “He’s not your brother, he’s not _responsible_ for your death. Your brother is gone, and killing Father Riario won’t change that.” The ghost paused for a moment, thinking.

“No.” She conceded, finally, and Leo’s shoulders (including his bad one, which was, thankfully, aching less due to the ridiculous amounts of adrenaline in his bloodstream) slumped in relief. “It’ll make me _feel_ better though.” The witch added, and threw out a hand, sending Riario staggering to the side, bleeding from a split lip, as if he’d been punched.

“Stop!” Leo repeated, an almost distressed shout, and threw himself at the witch, grabbing Zo’s outstretched arm. “He hasn’t done anything to you!”

“He tried to exorcise me.” The witch snarled. “I wasn’t hurting anyone!”

“You were hurting the children!” Vanessa pointed out, and Leo shot her a look – it perhaps wasn’t the best time to remind the witch of hers and Nico’s existence.

“I was _teasing them_.” The witch snarled. “Correcting their behaviour, at best – the parents are _useless_ at discipline. I would never _really_ hurt a child… Not the way I intend to hurt _you_.” She added, glowering at Riario over Leo’s head. The priest wiped his bloody mouth with the back of his hand, and raised his chin again.

“You have brought evil into this house, and you shall face your retribution for that.” He promised, low and dark, and the witch snarled again. Leo clung to Zo’s arm, not used to this viciousness from his oldest friend, and kept his body between the witch and her target.

“Nico, Vanessa, get Father Riario out of here before he makes it any _worse_!” He hissed, and heard his friends scrambled to obey, Riario shrugging them off as best he could, determinedly returning to his chanting. Leo struggled to hold Zo back – the other man had always been stronger than him, but with the ghost possessing him he seemed almost inhuman, and Leo’s feet were slipping along the carpet as the witch fought to move forward. She flung out the other arm, the one Leo _hadn’t_ grabbed, and he felt a chill go down his spine as he heard the unmistakable sound of the door to the attic slamming shut, the lock clicking. Vanessa let out a dismayed cry, and Leo stared straight into triumphant blue eyes as the witch wrapped Zo’s fingers around Leo’s throat.

“If you’re so determined to protect the priest,” She said, voice quietly intense. “Then you can die in his place.”

“Leo!” Nico and Vanessa wailed, as one, and even Riario let out something that could, charitably, be considered a concerned grunt. Leo kept his gaze locked steadily on Zo’s as the possessed man lifted him almost off the ground, the grip on his throat never wavering.

“If that’s what it takes.” He croaked, and the fingers tightened. He knew a half dozen ways to get out of a chokehold like this, and could probably think of a few more given enough time, but he didn’t bother to even attempt them. Instead, he curled one hand around Zo’s wrist, as reassurance more than struggle, and raised the other to touch his best friend’s cheek, weakly. The man’s skin was like ice – a side effect of the possession, surely, when Zo was usually like a furnace. “Just… Make sure he knows I don’t blame him.” He whispered, with the last of his breath, and then let his hand fall, before going limp.

“Leo!” Nico gave an anguished yell, and staggered forward, just as Zo’s eyes filled with brown, the man dropping to his knees and clawing at Leo’s body, dragging the limp form into his lap. One hand cradled Leo’s head; the other, he brushed along the man’s throat, looking for his pulse.

“Leo, love, no, don’t do this to me…” He was muttering, frantically, and ducked his head to press his forehead to Leo’s, breath coming in shaky, near-sobs. “Leo love, if you fuckin’ die on me I will summon you the fuck back here just to _kill_ you myself.” He swore, as Nico staggered over and dropped to his knees on the other side of Leo.

“Zo?” He asked, uncertainly, and Zo dragged his gaze away from Leo’s still face for a moment, glancing up at Nico’s concerned face. “Where is she, Zo?” Nico asked, voice wavering slightly.

“Gone, gone.” Zo muttered, already staring back down at Leo. “I fought her off, I had to… I had to stop her, I couldn’t let her…” He shuddered, and clutched Leo closer. “It took me too long, I can’t have _fuckin’_ failed, not when I _promised_ to look after him…” There were tears spilling down his face now, and he ducked down to press his forehead against Leo’s again, eyes screwed shut. As a result, he completely missed the smug grin that Leo’s mouth twisted itself into a moment later.

“I _knew_ you’d fall for that, Zoroaster, you _sap_.” He crowed, delightedly, and Zo jerked backwards, staring at the very much alive Leo’s grinning face.

“You _fucker_.” He breathed, but didn’t look particularly put out at having been tricked, too relieved.

“You are _predictable_ , Zoroaster, and I am _almost_ ashamed to call you my f-” Zo didn’t let Leo finish his smug insults, dragging the man up into a desperate kiss, instead.

“You fucker.” He repeated, a moment later. Leo stared up at him, completely stunned, his mouth hanging slightly open. It wasn’t easy to surprise Leonardo da Vinci, and harder still to shock him into silence, but apparently Zo had managed it.

“God, I’m going to _kill_ you.” Nico hissed, and Leo winced, raising his hands in a placating gesture.

“Now Nico, there’s no need for that, for once I wasn’t the instigator, _he_ kissed _m_ -” Once again, he was prevented from finishing his sentence by a mouth against his – Nico’s, this time, and once again, he was stunned into silence, for a moment at least. Vanessa appeared by Leo’s head, and her eyes were red, her cheeks tearstained, but she was grinning widely.

“I’ll help you hide the body.” She told Nico, and then ducked down to kiss Leo herself.

“Now _that’s_ going too far!” Leo protested. “ _You_ have a baby!”

“Sorry.” Vanessa giggled, looking entirely unapologetic. “I guess I got carried away.” She winked, and got to her feet, gracefully, heading back over to check on Father Riario.

“Looks like everyone did.” Leo muttered, letting his best friends help him sit up. He glanced over at Riario too, who was looking rather taken aback at the entire state of affairs, but otherwise healthy enough.

“Don’t look at _me_.” He said, when he caught Leo watching him. “ _I’m_ not kissing you.” He drawled, arching an eyebrow. There was a smile in his voice though, that Leo took to mean the priest, too, was relieved that Leo’s ‘death’ had been just an act. Leo flashed him a grin and a wink.

“Well, it was about time _someone_ did something.” Nico sighed, and tucked himself in against Leo’s side. “Though it would’ve been nice if it _didn’t_ take a near death experience.” He glowered at his boyfriend, who shrugged, unapologetic.

“Leo’s a fuckin’ drama queen, you expected anythin’ less?” He grumbled, and Leo narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two of them suspiciously. “You denyin’ it?” Zo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” Leo said, tilting his head. “I _am_ a drama queen.” He agreed, readily. “I’m just…” He hesitated, glancing between them again. “I’m just not sure what’s going on.” He admitted, finally, voice very quiet. Leo didn’t like not knowing things, and he liked admitting to it even less. Normally he bullshitted his way through with his usual bluster and bravado, but… Not this time.

“You’re an idiot.” Zo said, fondly.

“And we love you.” Nico added, squeezing one of Leo’s hands in both his own, a brilliant smile on his face.

“I love you both too.” Leo replied, almost automatically. “But that doesn’t explain _anything_.”

“Of course it does.” Zo said, exasperated, but still immeasurably fond. “We _love_ you. _I_ love you, and Nico loves you, and I spent _months_ waitin’ for you to make a move on Nico, only to get impatient and do it meself, and have you break up with me over it.”

“We weren’t _dating_.” Leo pointed out, uncertainly.

“Mate, we’ve been together nearly a decade. We _live_ together. We shared a bed more often than not – and by that I mean you staggered into mine whenever you actually _slept_ in a bed.”

“I was sleeping with other people!” Leo protested. “As were you!”

“I never said we were _exclusive_.” Zo shrugged. “Just face it, we were practically _married_.”

“You… You told me you wanted to start dating Nico.” Leo said, weakly, and Zo glanced heavenwards, sighing in frustration.

“I meant I wanted _us_ to start dating Nico.” He explained. “Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a partner.” He added, winking. Leo smirked, and Nico looked less than impressed. “ _I_ wanted to be exclusive with Nico, sure, but neither of us expected _you_ to be.” Zo continued, looking uncomfortable. “Then you started pullin’ away, and we thought…”

“We thought you weren’t interested, that you’d just been flirting with us because it’s what you do with everyone.” Nico shrugged, a sad smile on his face.

“Didn’t fuckin’ dawn on me until quite recently that, for all the brains you’ve got crammed in up there,” Zo said, rapping his knuckles on Leo’s forehead. “you’re still a fuckin’ idiot.”

“We _love_ you.” Nico repeated, firmly. “And if you ever fake your death to make Zo fight off ghostly possession again, you’ll wish you actually _had_ died.”

“Hell, I’m almost convinced it’s time to retire from the ghost hunting business entirely.” Zo muttered, but Leo was distracted, eyes very wide. He staggered to his feet, ignoring the other two’s protests.

“ _Fuck_.” He hissed, in shock. “Ghosts are real.”

“As I’ve been tellin’ you for _years_.” Zo sighed, used to Leo’s short attention span by this point in their friendship.

“Yes, yes, absolutely, you were right all along and I am _deeply_ sorry for doubting you.” Leo said, absently, dragging Zo down into a kiss before darting off to grab the camera to review the footage. Zo remained where he was, looking absurdly pleased with the return to the careless affection they’d shared before the whole misunderstanding had started.

“We’re going to have to talk about this.” Nico sighed, tucking himself under Zo’s arm; the psychic held him close, still grinning.

“Maybe once we’re _out_ of the haunted house.” He suggested, and nodded towards the door. “That unlocked yet, ‘Nessa?” He asked, and the girl darted over to check, leaving Father Riario propped up against the wall, dabbing at his still-bleeding lip with a tissue.

“Everything’s so clear.” Leo breathed, wonderingly, without looking up from the tiny camera screen. “You can see _everything…_ And this has been streaming live to the website! There’s no way anyone can say we’ve been doctoring the footage!” He chirped, delighted. Zo grinned at him, soft and adoring, and reached out to drag Leo into a threeway embrace, tucking him under his other arm.

“Fiddle with it once we’re _out_ of here.” He repeated, as Vanessa called up that the door was indeed unlocked.

“Hm? Yes. Good plan.” Leo muttered, and wandered down the stairs, his arm looped through Nico’s, trusting his assistant to guide him as he continued to stare down at the camera.

“Is she truly gone, Zoroaster?” Father Riario asked, pushing himself to his feet. His expression showed that he was extremely doubtful of Zo’s assurances, and the psychic merely shrugged.

“’s easier to exorcise a ghost from a person than a house, ain’t it?” He asked, and grinned innocently when Riario’s eyes just narrowed.

“You and da Vinci… You’ll send that boy straight to hell.” Riario warned, and Zo shrugged.

“Kid was already gay, Riario, according to most of your church that’s where he’d be goin’ anyway.”

“It’s not the orientation I have the problem with, Zoroaster.” Riario sighed, and followed Nico and Leo down the stairs. Zo, meanwhile, knelt to collect his cards, which had fallen from his pocket at some point during the fracas. The Ace of Cups lay face up atop the pile, and he grinned. Things were looking up.


	7. Chapter 7

“Do we have everything?” Leo asked, looking at the heap of equipment bags piled on the dining room table. “I don’t really want to come back.” He added, with a wry smile.

“If we’ve forgotten anythin’, we’ll send someone else to pick it up.” Zo promised, one hand holding an icepack to Leo’s shoulder – the adrenaline was wearing off now, and his injury was back to throbbing rather painfully – the other curled around the back of Nico’s neck, thumb rubbing small, soothing circles whilst Nico leant heavily against Zo’s side. “Let’s just get out of here, you two need the hospital.”

“I _hate_ having broken bones.” Nico griped, and both Leo and Zo turned to press reassuring kisses to his cheeks, one after the other.

“They’re probably just fractured.” Leo promised.

“We’ll be with you the whole time.” Zo added, and Nico brightened a little after that.

“You know we’re going to have to make at least two trips.” Vanessa pointed out, wryly, gesturing to the large amount of equipment they had to carry out of the house. “With both Leo _and_ Nico injured…”

“I’ll do it.” Zo said, picking up at least four bags. “Take what you can, I’ll come back for the rest whilst you fetch the van and start loading it.” He promised, and Vanessa looked relieved at the offer. Zo didn’t blame her.

“I should make a closing statement.” Leo murmured, glancing over at the one static camera they’d left up, still live streaming everything. “But for once in my life, I have no idea what to say.” He added, glancing helplessly at the rest of his team. Most of them shrugged; Riario, however, tilted his head to the slide, smirking slightly.

“A disclaimer might be in order.” He drawled. “Don’t try this at home; other spirits may not be so easily defeated by the power of _true love_.” He leant heavily on the last two words, sarcasm dripping from each, and Zo frowned, Nico scowled, and Leo, surprising all of them, _actually blushed_. Even Zo hadn’t thought Leo could actually _do_ that – after all, the man had no shame.

“Fine, that’ll do.” Leo mumbled, and spun on his heel to face the camera, grinning brightly in one of his infamous abrupt mood swings. “You heard the Father, viewers! We are _professionals_ , after all, and Zo knew what he was doing when he confronted the witch-”

“Unlike you.” Zo muttered, though there was little venom in it, both he and Nico still riding the relief of realising Leo wasn’t actually hurt after all.

“Unlike me.” Leo conceded – perhaps he had realised just how scared the others had been, perhaps he was just feeling charitable – even Zo couldn’t tell, unable to predict the unpredictable. “We all got out safe and sound, this time, with just a few bruises, a concussion, and a handful of broken bones to show for it-”

“Which we should _really_ get you all to the hospital to get looked at.” Vanessa cut in, disapprovingly, arms folded sternly across her torso.

“Motherhood has changed you, Vanessa.” Leo said, mock solemnly. “Whatever happened to the girl who jumped off roofs believing she could fly?”

“She spent six hours in A and E with a few bruises, a concussion, and a handful of broken bones.” Vanessa retorted, raising her eyebrows and earning herself a twinkling grin from Leo, only slightly strained by the pain in his shoulder. “Now wrap it up, let’s go.” She said, and began carrying bags outside.

“Well, thank you for watching the Halloween special!” Leo chirped into the camera, feeling Zo’s big hand settle, warm and supportive, on his lower back. “I have no idea how we’ll top this episode, but we’ll keep trying.” He promised, with a wink, ignoring the disapproving sigh from the rest of his team. “I’m Leo da Vinci, you’ve been watching _‘Fantasma o Fantasia?’_ , and this time, the answer was _definitely: fantasma_!” He shut the camera off, still grinning, and let Zo pack it away in its case, the man chivvying them out of the house and down the street, heading back for the village hall where they’d parked their van, his arms laden with bags. Leo himself carried one, slung across his good shoulder; Zo had refused to let either Riario or Nico carry any, not that Nico seemed to be complaining about that. He was a spoilt boy at heart, after all.

“That was amazing.” Leo sighed, wistfully, and Zo shot him a doubtful look.

“Nico has at least two cracked ribs.” He pointed out, trusting in Riario’s quick assessment. Leo shrugged, carelessly, then winced at the movement of his shoulder. “And you’ve probably got a fractured scapula.” Zo added, exasperated. He handed his bags over to ‘Nessa, one by one, letting her fit them in the van as she pleased – she wouldn’t let any of them load it, concerned they might damage her perfect system – and then turned back towards the house, Leo trailing after him.

“It was still amazing.” He countered, grinning, and perched himself on the garden wall with his personal camera – pilfered from the bag when ‘Nessa wasn’t looking – in order to rewatch the moment the bookcase had fallen, looking for any sign of the ghost’s presence. Zo shook his head, fondly, and ducked back inside the house for the last of the bags. He paused in the doorway of the dining room, folding his arms.

“Why’d you really let me go?” He asked, quietly, and the witch materialised, as clear as she had been in her anger, earlier, her eyes very sad, despite the small smile she wore.

“One of us ought to have a happy ending.” She said, quietly, and then spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “Your priest-”

“He’s not _my_ priest.” Zo cut in, and the witch’s smile widened slightly with her amusement.

“And he’s certainly not my brother.” She agreed. “Your lover is right; killing the priest won’t bring my sister back, nor will it avenge my own death.”

“But without vengeance, you’re still trapped here.” Zo’s tone was cautious; with his amulet still firmly around Nico’s throat, he himself was unprotected, though he still had salt and sage in his pockets.

“Ghosts seek resolution, not vengeance.” The ghost pointed out, dryly. “I’ve found my resolution. I can go to my sister now.” She smirked. “And maybe get my revenge on my brother in the afterlife.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how the afterlife works.” Zo grinned, bemused, and the witch’s ghost laughed, the sound almost sweet.

“Maybe not.” She conceded, tilting her head. “But… I’m free. Sane, too, thanks to you.” Her expression softened, and she folded her hands in front of her, the image of a sweet, demure young maiden. “Being in your mind… It brought me clarity, clarity that I’ve lacked for many years. You are as firm and steady as bedrock, Tommaso. They don’t deserve you.”

“I’ll let them be the judge of that.” Zo said, lightly, even as inwardly, he thrilled at the use of the plurals, delighted that he no longer had to _choose_ , or wouldn’t, if everything worked out as he and Nico hoped it would. “Besides,” He continued. “they need someone down to earth, especially now. Leo’ll be manic for weeks, trying to rationalise the existence of ghosts where he’s always dismissed ‘em before.” The witch laughed again.

“In that case, I wish you luck, Tommaso.” She said, almost teasingly. Zo grinned, and threw her a wink.

“I don’t need luck. I have my cards.” He quipped, lifting the pack out of his pocket and shuffling them, before drawing the top one from the pack and holding it up – the Queen of Cups, reversed. Slowly, he flipped it over, changing the meaning. “Go in peace, sister.” He murmured, and the ghost inclined her head once more, then faded.

“Zoroaster!” Leo called from outside. “Come along now, darling, I want to start editing the footage – and Nico says you have some from your first confrontation with her that I _have_ to look at as soon as possible!”

“Coming, Leo.” Zo said, staring around the empty room for a moment longer, feeling the steady, calm peace, the absence of the witch’s presence obvious to him. It was a distinct change from the way the house had felt when he first entered, and he fixed the sensation in his mind as he picked up the last of the bags, hoping the family would be more comfortable living there now, with the ghost’s grief and anger no longer pressing down upon them.

 

Then, he turned, and walked out into the sunrise, twirling the Queen of Cups between his fingers.


End file.
